A Dragon Cometh
by Karri
Summary: In the year 2770 of the Third Age, Legolas picks a bad day to do business with the dwarves of the Mountain.


Title: Such an Ending

Rating: PG

Summary: In the year 2770 of the Third Age, Legolas picks a bad day to do business with the dwarves of the Mountain.

_Many thanks to my dear, speedy but thorough, beta!_

oOoOoOoOoOo

Legolas Greenleaf glowered at the stony path ahead of him as he replayed in his mind his transaction with King Thror. The mithril shirt he'd left with the dwarves had great sentimental value; still it had seemed like a good idea when he'd decided to have it reworked into various gifts for his family. Now that the bargaining was done, Legolas wasn't so certain of the wisdom of his decision. The resulting agreement decidedly favored the dwarves in the amount of mithril they would keep for themselves and the amount they would rework. He was not bothered by that, however; it was as he'd expected.

"Nay, it is not the agreement that gnaws at me," Legolas mused aloud. "It is that it was reached too easily. Thror will yet demand more in payment when I return..."

He kicked a stone that lay in his path, but then stopped and closed his eyes. He must not return to Dale and rejoin his mother in such a state. It would pique her curiosity, and, as the gifts were intended to be a surprise, it would not do at all to have her ask about his business with the dwarves.

Sucking in a deep breath, Legolas let it out slowly, focusing on the soft sounds of animals bedding down for the night and the soothing caress of the gentle breeze. Feeling some of the tension release from his muscles, he opened his eyes and gazed at the just-risen moon, letting its beauty further assuage his irritation.

Breathing deeply once more, Legolas had barely taken step onward when a low, but rising, roar of the wind through the trees reached his ears. "What is this?" he wondered aloud, feeling naught but a slight stirring of wind around him.

Turning back toward the mountain, his sharp sight could just make out a large shape looming up in the distance. It moved with frightening swiftness; thus it was not long before his eyes could identify the beast, though his mind took somewhat longer to comprehend and accept what he was seeing.

_A dragon! _Despite the irrefutable evidence looming ever nearer, Legolas could scarce believe it. Long had it been 'ere a winged dragon had plagued the world…

Reflexively, he reached for a weapon, but his hands grasped naught. The dwarves did not allow armed elves into the mountain; thus, Legolas has traveled without his weapons. _It matters not, _his mind told him, _you could not bring down a dragon single-handedly, and you would only draw its attention to yourself should you attempt it._

"Blasted, greedy, stupid dwarves!" he cursed aloud, knowing naught but the famed treasure of the mountain would lure such a creature out of whatever hole it had been hiding. "Would that they had been content to have the treasure, rather than be greedy for the fame of it as well!"

But even as he ranted, Legolas knew he was being unfair. The dwarves could not have foreseen the coming of a winged dragon, for few beyond the elves believed such creatures still existed, if they believed they had existed at all…until now, that is.

Legolas laughed mirthlessly, _I fear too many will believe it now…in the few moments of life they have left._"

He turned back toward Dale, intent upon racing pell-mell back to his mother and spiriting her away her before the dragon finished with the mountain and turned its sights onto the city of men – for surely it would; Dale, and its great wealth, lay too close to feet of the mountain to be spared.

Movement caught his eye as Legolas finished turning, drawing his attention to a small cluster of boulders slightly ahead of him. "Valar!" he cursed aloud as he spotted two diminutive shapes that could be naught be else but wee dwarflings.

Dashing forward, he caught one under each arm just the children stirred from their hiding place, seemingly intending to race back to the shelter of the mountain. Legolas kept to the edge of the road, staying beneath the scattered covering of pines as he ran, with the children squirming and shouting and cursing him. _They know not what they ask_, he thought, as they demanded to be released and allowed to go home. Finally, not far from Dale's gate, one particularly nasty kick convinced him to stop and set the children down. He held tight to their wrists, however.

"Let us go!" They shouted in unison, their hostile glares belying the unshed tears welling in their eyes.

"Nay!" Legolas replied emphatically. "There is no shelter for you there, little ones."

In defiance of his words, they tugged in an effort to free themselves from his grasp, but Legolas merely pulled them closer, enfolding them in his arms. "I am sorry for you, little ones, for it is your home and your kin, but there is no hope for those within the mountain. You remain and must now carry the burden of remembering those lost this night; that is your duty to your people. Do you understand?" he asked, peering into each small dwarven face.

The larger of the two – a boy, Legolas thought, though it was difficult to be certain with dwarves – puffed up his chest and nodded, wiping away the angry tears that trickled down his cheeks.

The smaller dwarfling – a girl, Legolas assumed, as she seemed of slighter build that the other – simply sniffed and buried her head into his shoulder. Petting the small head, Legolas turned back to the boy child. "We cannot save the mountain," he reiterated, "but we may still save some in Dale. We must try, at least, don't you agree?" He waited for a slight nod from the dwarfling. "I can trust you not to abandon your duty and run away to meet your death on the mountain?" Again, the child nodded, though more hesitantly, and Legolas set him down, lightly grasping his hand. He kept the smaller child on his arm, for she clung to him still, weeping into the soft leather of his tunic. "On we go, then, to raise the alarm."

Dashing as fast as the dwarfling trailing along beside him could manage, Legolas and his charges soon reached the gates of the city. "Lo, there!" Legolas shouted to the gatekeepers. "A dragon! A dragon has come to the mountain! All must flee! Let us in and raise the alarm!"

Slowly the gate opened, for recognizing the elf, they would not have dared refuse him entrance. Still, it was with great skepticism that they gazed up past Legolas, toward the mountain. The spreading flame was enough to convince them, though, and Legolas abstractly heard the bells begin ringing as he darted through the streets, heading for the home of the Lord of Dale. "Naneth!" he shouted as he neared the great doors of the Lord's gilded hall.

Despite the risen moon, a great din of voices drowned out his own; the Lord of Dale's wife was very fond of the Queen of the Wood-elves, and always declared a visit from her as good reason to celebrate with feasting. His mother usually declined, but as Legolas had business on the mountain this night, she had acquiesced.

"Naneth!" Legolas shouted again. He spotted his mother quickly as he threw open the doors; having felt his alarm, she was nearly upon him before he entered. She reached for the dwarfling on his arm, before gazing at him questioningly. Legolas shook his head slightly; he'd all but forgotten he held the girl child, and squeezed the hand of the boy child to reassure himself he had not lost the dwarfling in his haste. As he did so, he exclaimed, loudly, so that all might hear and be alerted, "A dragon has come! Even now it devours the mountain." He distractedly regretted the choice of words as the girl child in his mother's arms quivered with renewed tears, but he continued, all the same, "Soon enough, it shall turn its attention upon Dale! All must flee while there is still time!" _If there is still time, _he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the now clamoring streets of the city.

The hall behind her burst into chaotic shouting and motion, but the Elvenqueen simply nodded and calmly strode out of the door. Legolas attempted, as best he could, to clear a path through the panicky throng – all the while scanning the sky for any sign of the great beast. All too soon, his eyes caught sight of it, high up in the sky yet, but descending swiftly. _There is not time! We are trapped! _he thought, even as he searched for some sort of weapon with which he could defend his mother. _Or gain her some time, at least, _he thought grimly.

_There! _He thought, as he watched two men collide, fall to the ground, rise again, and flee without reclaiming their dropped possessions. Among that which was dropped lay a sword. Even at a distance, Legolas could tell it was not a great sword, but it need only be serviceable_. Not even one of legendary elven swords of old is likely to kill a beast as ancient as this dragon must surely be. Nay! I need only distract it long enough…"_ Instead of finishing the thought, Legolas glanced at his mother. Her face fell as their eyes met.

"Legolas…" she started to plead, but he waved her words away.

"I will gain you what time I can, but you might find a way to flee from this place quickly," he instructed, "for I doubt it will find me a suitable distraction for long."

Biting her lip in her effort to allow him to do what he could – what he must, for her – rather than plead for him to stay at her side, she brushed her fingers lightly across his cheek, and then with a soft touch of her forehead against his, whispered, "Return to us."

He nodded, uncertain if he could do as she bade, but determined to try, nonetheless. "Go, now," he said, pushing the boy child's hand into hers and gently shoving his mother onwards toward the gate.

Once certain she was moving away, Legolas spun and weaved his way through the crowd and retrieved the fallen sword. The dragon was nearly upon him now, already spreading fire across the city and feasting upon its people. Soon it would be directly overhead… _And that will be my chance,_ he decided, and swiftly climbed atop a tall house near when the sword had lain. Abstractly, he wondered if the house and the sword belonged to the same man, but then the dragon arrived, and his thoughts focused into a fine point.

Legolas half-smiled as the dragon approached, caught sight of him, and – he would have sworn to it – laughed. He paid no heed to the beast's mirth, though. Springing into the air, he flipped himself around to land atop the dragon. He flung out a hand and tightly gripped a scale and the dragon twisted and bucked in an effort to throw him off. The sharp edge of the scale bit deeply into his hand, and Legolas briefly worried that the blood oozing from his wound would cost him his grip, but soon the dragon settled.

_He has greater sport to entertain him than a single-elf, but it distracted him for a moment, _Legolas thought, with grim satisfaction, as he paused a moment to seek out his mother. He smiled when he saw that she was nearly at the gate. Once through, he trusted that she would hide herself and her charges from the dragon's sight. Most of the inhabitants of Dale were simply running, which seemed to amuse the dragon more than anything.

Seeking to provide his mother the last few precious minutes she needed to be free of the throng, Legolas stabbed downward with his borrowed sword, and…it shattered. Worse, yet, the dragon seemed not bothered in the least. Scrabbling carefully along the dragon's spine, Legolas made his way onto the great beast's head, which did bother the dragon – seemingly a great deal, for once again it twisted and spun, bucked and shook, in an effort to throw him. Legolas, though, had managed to get a firm grip on one of the dragon's smaller horns, and the increasingly frustrated beast could not shake him off.

Pleased to have managed his task of distraction, Legolas let himself slide off the side of the dragon's head, heaving the horn as he fell and forcing the dragon's head, and thus the rest of it, to turn in the direction he pulled – away from the gate and toward the River Running.

Without his feet to brace him, Legolas found it increasingly difficult to cling on as the dragon shook its head violently in an effort to throw him off. _It will succeed, soon. I must find an escape,_ he thought, desperately.

Soon, the river lay squarely beneath him, and, with a resigned sigh, Legolas decided it was his best chance. Letting go, he tried to keep the dragon in sight as he fell, fearing it would try to catch and eat him, mid-air. It seemed the sudden loss of his weight on its horn had disoriented the great beast, though, and before it could reorient itself, Legolas landed flat in the river, with a heavy, painful splash.

The wind knocked from his lungs and his head spinning, Legolas nonetheless struggled to locate the dragon. The black spots before his eyes cleared just enough to spot it swooping down, plainly intent upon scooping him out of the water and into its gullet. Thinking more quickly than his battered mind was eager to do at the moment, Legolas dove down, huddling near the bottom of a large rock that poked up nearly out of the water. _I shan't be able to stay down long, _he acknowledged grimly. He'd barely gotten his breath back when he dove, and so had not taken much air with him. All too quickly, his lungs burned, forcing him to the surface. He eased his face out of the water slowly, expecting death in an instant, but, it seemed, the Valar were with him. The dragon had decided to vent its irritation elsewhere.

_Ai, Valar! _He lamented, as the beast sped back to Dale with renewed vigor. He could do naught for those left in Dale, though, and he well knew it. _I can barely do ought for myself, _he thought. Crawling weakly from the river, Legolas collapsed between a scrubby pine and tall rock, hoping they'd provide enough cover to shield him should the dragon fly overhead once more, but too weary to do ought about it if it were not.

The rustling of fabric nearby startled him awake, and Legolas realized to his chagrin that he'd dozed off. His chagrin deepened as he regained sufficient awareness to comprehend that he'd been moved into deeper cover and was now covered by a warm, dry cloak. "Ion-nin," he heard a soft, melodious voice whisper.

His hissed softly as he attempted to turn his head in search of the voice. Pain lanced through his skull, across his shoulders, and down his spine. "Stay still, penneth," the voice chided. "You are bruised from head to toe."

"Nothing is broken, though," he croaked out, as the pain died down. Shifting with more care, he found his mother sitting nearby - with one dwarfling huddled in her lap, and the other settled against her leg as she petted his head. "You are well?" he asked, still too woozy to trust his eyes as he scanned her for injury.

"We are well," his mothered assured, "and we are safe enough, for now. This hollow would be difficult to spot from above," she added, before Legolas could ask. "The sun is at its height, and the dragon seems to have curled up inside the mountain to sleep, so we may return to our woods," she continued. "Once you are able to stand, that is," she added, with just a hint of maternal reproach.

Eager to be home, Legolas carefully eased himself up off the ground. "Legolas!" he heard his mother exclaim, but he waved away her concern. He was, after all, only bruised. He was alive and would recover. _Which is more than the people of Dale and the Mountain are afforded this day,_ he thought mournfully, gazing out upon the ruins left in the dragon's wake.

"And so comes to an end of the great Kingdom of Dwarves," he muttered under his breath. "And such an ending it is…"

The end.


End file.
